


Better Together Than We'll Ever Be on Our Own

by whisperedstory



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Camping, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:36:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27760876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperedstory/pseuds/whisperedstory
Summary: Jaskier never thought his first trip with Geralt would be going camping. But he's so smitten that, when Geralt asks, he agrees—and he might not know a damn thing about camping, but he's going to do his fucking best to be amazing at it just to make Geralt happy.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 80
Kudos: 414





	Better Together Than We'll Ever Be on Our Own

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by [dancing_adrift](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancing_Adrift) <3
> 
> Title from the song Lucky in Love by Kris Kristofferson.

Jaskier hasn't spent a lot of time imagining his and Geralt's first trip together, but if he had, he would have pictured something romantic. A nice hotel with a spa and good room service, so they could just spend a few days relaxing and being pampered. A charming B&B in a quaint town they could explore together, holding hands as they walk through cobblestoned streets. A secluded cabin by a lake where they're truly alone, with no interruptions or nosy neighbors.

So. Maybe he has thought about his first trip with Geralt just a bit. 

What hadn't crossed his mind, even once, was camping. _Camping_.

But that's what Geralt suggested and Jaskier is besotted enough that he agreed. He's regretted the decision ever since, but not enough to try to get Geralt to change his mind. Or even so much as hint at the fact that Jaskier isn't much for camping. Because Geralt had looked so pleased when Jaskier agreed and Jaskier knows Geralt enjoys going camping and if this is what it takes to make his boyfriend happy, then Jaskier will silently suffer through what he expects to be a not very pleasant trip.

Geralt promises to organize the whole trip. "All you have to do is pack a bag and be ready to leave when I come get you," he says, while pressing little kisses to the side of Jaskier's neck. 

Jaskier tips his head to the side, giving Geralt better access, and not so subtly rocks his hips against Geralt's. "I can do that," he says, mind a little fuzzy because Geralt always makes him feel so damn good even with the simplest of touches and it's not fair and it's the most glorious thing in the world.

It's only later, after Jaskier has walked Geralt to the door and kissed him goodbye—which they managed to drag out for ten minutes—that Jaskier wonders what the hell one even packs for a camping trip.

He could just ask Geralt, of course. But Geralt is, like, a _pro camper_ , if that's a thing. He can probably build a shelter out of twigs and leaves and catch fish with his bare hands. Jaskier doesn't want to look like a total _idiot_ in front of his boyfriend. Surely he can at least pack a bag with the things one needs to, uh, go into the wild or whatever the hell camping entails. 

Or he can at least google it and the internet will tell him.

*

Jaskier does his best with the lists he finds online. He figures Geralt will take care of all the practical things they need. Unfortunately, as far as clothing and personal items are concerned the lists he finds are rather short. Jaskier isn't going to go on a trip with his boyfriend and pack just one pair of jeans and a couple of shirts. He needs options. He also strongly disagrees with people who apparently think all you need to get ready is a bar of soap and a comb. Jaskier wishes it was that easy because it would do wonders for his bank account. He needs moisturizer and sunscreen, shampoo and conditioner and body wash (people who use two-in-one products are _heathens_ ) and he needs products to make his hair look effortlessly good. 

He tries hard not to overpack, but he rethinks his choices over and over and then adds more items, just in case, and he ends up with a bag that is probably a little big for a five-day trip, but oh well. At least he'll look presentable and, hopefully, ravishing every single day and Geralt will appreciate that Jaskier is putting in an effort to look attractive even if he apparently doesn't know how to pack like a true _camper_.

*

Geralt picks Jaskier up at an ungodly early hour on the day they're leaving. Jaskier sees no reason to get on the road this early—it's not like the campsite is going to go anywhere—but Geralt is the expert. Jaskier still complains, but he's ready by the time Geralt pulls up outside of his apartment building.

His mood lifts considerably when he slides into the car and Geralt draws him into the kiss with one hand resting on the back of Jaskier's neck. He tastes like coffee and minty toothpaste and Jaskier sighs happily even though he's still half-asleep.

"Ready?" Geralt asks when they part and Jaskier lets out a dazed hum.

They leave the city behind quickly and Jaskier has to admit that the sight is very pretty this early in the morning. There's fog hanging over the fields and the sky is basked in a golden-pink light and everything looks soft and peaceful. He snaps a couple of pictures, and thinks maybe this camping thing won't be so bad after all, because he feels himself starting to relax already. Leaning his head against the window, he continues to enjoy the view and starts to drift off soon after, lulled back to sleep by the rumbling noise of the engine and the playlist he made for their trip the previous night playing softly in the background. If Geralt notices that it's all sweet, soft songs about love and relationships, he doesn't comment on it and Jaskier drifts off with a smile on his face. 

He comes back awake when Geralt stops at a petrol station and a quick glance at his phone tells him he's been asleep for a couple of hours. There's a crick in his neck and Jaskier winces a little as he rolls his shoulders.

"Are we almost there yet?" he mumbles.

"Couple more hours," Geralt says and grabs his wallet from between their seats. "I'll fill up the car. You want some food?"

"Please," Jaskier nods. 

He waits until Geralt has exited the car and his back turned before he flips the sun visor down to check his hair in the small mirror, carding his fingers through it to brush it back into place. His eyes look a little puffy from sleep and his skin is pale and he rubs his cheeks to look a little more awake. 

He doesn't have to wait long for Geralt to return and he uses his time to check the messages on his phone and browse through Instagram, posting one of the pictures he took earlier just as Geralt gets back in the driver's seat.

"Here," he says and hands Jaskier a small paper bag. Jaskier peers inside and finds a glazed, sticky pastry and as long as it's sweet, that's good enough for him. 

He's finished half of it before he remembers to offer Geralt some. Instead of asking he rips a bit off and holds it up to Geralt's mouth. Geralt's lips twitch up, eyes never leaving the road, and he takes the food from Jaskier's fingers.

"Good?" Jaskier asks, just a little breathless.

Geralt makes a face. "Too sweet," he admits. "But you hand-feeding me was a nice touch." 

Jaskier snorts. "Noted for the future," he says and brings his fingers to his own mouth to lick them clean.

"There's coffee, too," Geralt says and points to the legroom next to Jaskier's feet without looking. It's only then that Jaskier notices the thermos there and he makes a pleased noise. 

He picks it up, pops the top off and places it between his thighs upside down before screwing the thermos open and pouring some coffee. It's steaming and milky and the scent alone makes Jaskier's mouth water. He screws the thermos shut again and sets it down, before blowing at the hot coffee to get it to cool down a little before taking a first sip. It's not as sweet as Jaskier takes his, but definitely sweeter than Geralt likes and he hums in appreciation.

"You're perfect," he says after a couple of gulps. 

"You're easy to impress," Geralt counters, lips still curved up. "Lucky for me."

"Hmm, yes, lucky you," Jaskier says. "Because surely you'd have a hard time impressing me otherwise. What with all those muscles and your gorgeous face and the fact that I've never had better sex with any other partner in my life."

"Good to know those are the things that matter. You're not shallow at all," Geralt mocks.

"Oh fine. Your personality isn't _too bad_ either," Jaskier adds and takes another sip of coffee. "You want some, too?"

"I'm fine. Some water would be good," Geralt says. "There's a bottle to your left."

Jaskier peers next to his seat. "Found it," he says and picks it up. He twists the cap off and hands the bottle to Geralt, before taking it back and putting it back into its place. "We should play a game. That's something you do on road trips, right?"

Geralt hums. "We're a little too old for _I spy_."

Jaskier sighs. "Okay, fine," he concedes and then smiles. "Tell me a secret then."

He watches Geralt furrow his brow. "A secret." 

"Not like, _I've murdered someone in the past_ kind of secret," Jaskier says and pauses. "You haven't, right?"

"I'd rather not say," Geralt replies with a small grin.

"Noted. Sleep with one eye open, Jaskier," Jaskier says to himself. "Just… tell me something about you I don't know."

Geralt is silent for a moment, attention firmly on the road. "I've never done this with anyone other than my brothers before," he finally says.

Jaskier wrinkles his nose. "I hope you're not talking about being in a relationship. I know you and your brothers are close, but yuck," he teases.

Geralt huffs. "I mean. Gone camping," he says. 

"Huh," Jaskier says. "Why not? Not with friends from uni? Any ex-girlfriends or boyfriends?"

Geralt frowns and glances briefly at Jaskier. "I don't know," he says. "It's always been something Eskel, Lambert and I did together. I, uh, never had a huge group of friends. And I've never… dated anyone I wanted to take camping, I guess." 

Warmth blooms in Jaskier's chest at the implication that he's different than the people Geralt dated before him. That their relationship is different. It's only been a few months, but things between them feel special. The _this could be it_ kind of special. They haven't talked about it yet and though Jaskier suspects Geralt feels the same way about their relationship, this feels like a confirmation.

"Well," he says, his voice suddenly a little thick. "I'm glad you wanted to take me."

"Yeah?" Geralt asks.

"Yes," Jaskier says. "Guess it's my turn to tell you something, huh? Well, uh, kinda on the same topic. I've never gone camping before."

He watches Geralt's face for a reaction, sees his mouth twist up into a grin. "I had my suspicions," he says lightly.

"Oh, because I don't look like the rugged type who knows how to rough it, huh? That's very narrow-minded of you, Geralt," Jaskier jests, puffing out his chest. 

"Hmm."

"There's no rule that says you can't like nice things and enjoy a few days out in the wilderness nonetheless," Jaskier says. 

"We're going camping. We're not _out in the wilderness_ ," Geralt replies with a smirk.

"Oh whatever. Know it all," Jaskier says with a dramatic sigh, biting his lower lip to keep from grinning.

Geralt hums and lets go of the steering wheel with one hand, catching Jaskier's in his. "I'm glad you agreed to come," he says quietly. His tone is painfully sincere and Jaskier melts a little. This is important to Geralt. It's probably— _hopefully_ —not a deal-breaker if Jaskier absolutely fails at camping, but it's clearly something Geralt loves and he wants to share it with him. Jaskier silently swears to himself to not only enjoy this trip, but to fucking _rock_ this whole camping thing.

*

The campsite Geralt picked for them is secluded and it's late enough in the year that it's not very crowded. Geralt finds them a spot that is shielded by trees and shrubbery and Jaskier can't even see any other tents nearby. He suspects the fact that all facilities are on the other side of the campsite have something to do with that.

Jaskier stretches his legs while Geralt unpacks the tent, pulling the different parts out of the satchel. Jaskier snatches up the instruction manual, frowning as unfolds it and turns it around to find out what the first step is. It looks more complicated than he expected.

"I've got this, Jask," Geralt says, sounding amused. "I've put this up so many times I can probably do it in my sleep."

"Show-off," Jaskier mutters.

"You can gather some firewood for later, if you want to," Geralt suggests.

Jaskier nods. "Okay," he agrees and hovers next to Geralt's crouched form hesitantly.

Geralt glances up at him. "What?" 

"Is there a difference between firewood and just any old wood?" Jaskier asks sheepishly.

Geralt snorts out a laugh. "How about I put this up and then we go gather some together?" he suggests.

"Good idea," Jaskier agrees with a nod. "I do love anything that involves you and me and wood together, after all." 

Geralt rolls his eyes and Jaskier forgives him for not always appreciating his frankly brilliant sense of humor. He watches Geralt build their tent and he really seems to know what he is doing, not once glancing at the instructions, and his competence is weirdly _hot_. He wonders if it's some kind of primal instinct, being attracted to someone who can provide and set up shelter. Either way, it's definitely working for Jaskier right now.

He pulls out his phone and takes a few photos.

"What are you doing?" Geralt asks, eyebrows raised.

"Documenting," Jaskier says, waving his phone around. "I call this shot, _mountain man building shelter for his chosen mate_."

"Fuck you," Geralt says with a laugh.

"Later, dear. Build the tent first," Jaskier replies sweetly and then frowns at his phone. "Ugh. The connection out here is crap."

"You can log into the campsites wireless connection if you're closer to the reception," Geralt says.

"And we're setting up the tent _here_ why?" Jaskier asks.

Geralt quirks an eyebrow at him. "Privacy," he says, and Jaskier flushes. 

"Good point," he says when something else dawns on him. "Geralt. Where the hell am I supposed to charge my phone? My battery isn't going to last for five days."

"You know, most people who go camping _like_ disconnecting from social media and all that crap for a few days," Geralt says and Jaskier thinks he must look absolutely crestfallen, because Geralt's smile goes all soft and fond. "I packed a couple of power banks. And you can recharge your phone in the reception if necessary."

"Phew, okay," Jaskier says with a sigh of relief. "Just so you know, I _can_ disconnect for a few days just fine. But then how would I share the tales of our epic camping adventure with the world?"

"Hmm, yes, it would be a real shame if you couldn't," Geralt agrees. 

Jaskier pockets his phone and scrunches up his face. "You know, sometimes I wonder if you lied to me about your age and you're really 100 years old," he wonders. "It would explain the gray hair. Maybe you just discovered a magical anti-aging cream that makes the rest of you look really young."

"Hmm."

"Geralt, if you have discovered a magical anti-aging cream and you're not sharing it with me, I'll be very, very cross," Jaskier insists. 

"You don't need an anti-aging cream."

"Are you saying I look all young and pretty?" Jaskier asks, batting his eyelashes.

"I'm saying you're twenty-five," Geralt replies.

Jaskier sticks his lower lip out in a pout. "So you don't think I look young and pretty? For shame, Geralt, for shame," he says. "I need more than shelter, you brute. I need compliments as well."

Geralt rolls his eyes and gets up, momentarily abandoning his tent-building task. He catches Jaskier by the hips and tugs him close. He rubs their noses together and presses a kiss to Jaskier's lips. "You're very pretty," he murmurs.

Jaskier feels his cheeks heat and he wraps his arms around Geralt's neck, fingers slipping through long, soft strands of hair. "Hmm. Better. You're forgiven," he says, "if I get at least one more kiss. But make it a good one."

"Deal," Geralt agrees and leans back in to meet his lips in another kiss.

*

The inside of their tent looks surprisingly cozy and inviting once Geralt has everything set up. He's spread out a camping mat under the air mattress for further insulation, which Jaskier is very grateful for, and he's brought actual pillows and a couple of thick, woolen blankets as well as sleeping bags. There's a travel lantern sitting next to one side of the mattress and a portable radio as well. 

They gather wood for the campfire together and Geralt ends up carrying most of it and then shows Jaskier how to stack it to make a good fire later. 

"You've brought matches, though, right?" Jaskier asks. "We don't have to do that bit where you have to smash stones together, right?"

"No stone smashing," Geralt promises, lips twitching.

Jaskier gives him a sheepish look. "Sorry I don't know anything about any of this and am no help at all," he says.

"It's okay," Geralt says and slips an arm around Jaskier, nuzzling his temple. "I'm glad you're willing to try. And I don't mind being, what was it, the mountain man providing for my chosen mate?"

Jaskier smiles at that and cups Geralt's cheek in his hand, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Yes. And you're very good at it," he confirms. "The best."

"Good," Geralt murmurs.

*

They don't do much for the rest of the day. They walk around the campground, exploring where everything is, and Jaskier seriously hopes he won't need to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night because there's no way he's going to walk all the way across the campsite on his own in the dark. He tells Geralt as much, who rolls his eyes.

"You can go take a piss behind one of the trees, Jask."

"Wildlife, Geralt!" Jaskier exclaims. "What if something bites me in the dick?"

"Like what, a mosquito?"

"Those can be _vicious_ ," Jaskier replies. "And we both like my dick very much, so let's keep it safe."

Geralt laughs, and Jaskier relishes how carefree he sounds. He seems utterly relaxed here, the way he usually only is when they're alone at one of their places. He gets more guarded whenever he's in a crowd of people, and whenever Jaskier plans a date, he tries to pick places that aren't too loud and busy. He's surprised—and more than flattered—that Geralt tries to make it to all of his gigs around town anyway, though he usually brings Eskel or Lambert along to act as a buffer and he's only slowly warming up to Jaskier's, admittedly chaotic, group of friends.

Jaskier likes this version of Geralt, looking perfectly at ease and happy. He silently nixes hotels and B&Bs from his mental list of future travel plans together, but makes a note to look into secluded cabins. Maybe over New Year's, he thinks, and just the fact that the thought crosses his mind, that he has no doubt that they'll still be together three months from now, makes him smile.

They drop by the little building that houses the reception so Jaskier can pick up a few of the pamphlets about sights and things to do in the area, and then they duck into the small store right next to it that sells some essentials. Geralt packed enough food for the entire trip, but they pick out some snacks and a couple of other things that catch their attention. They sell some chilled drinks as well and Geralt picks up a six pack of beer, two bottles of which they open when they get back to their campsite while Geralt stores the others in the cooler.

Dinner is a chili that Geralt prepared the day before that they only have to heat up and bread they picked up at the little store. 

"This is so good," Jaskier insists with a satisfied noise as he sops up the last of the sauce with the bread. 

"It's really simple to make," Geralt dismisses, his cheeks looking a little pink. 

Jaskier shakes his head, mostly to himself, and smiles at Geralt. There are few things Geralt will proudly admit to being good at; most of the time he just brushes off compliments and downplays his skills. Cooking being one of them. It makes Jaskier want to shower him with even more compliments. Geralt cooks for him quite regularly and he has yet to make a dish that hasn't been amazing. Sometimes Jaskier wonders how he got so lucky to be dating a guy like Geralt, who is devastatingly handsome and fiercely protective and takes care of Jaskier in ways nobody else ever has, yet acts as if he's the one who got lucky dating Jaskier.

"It's better than anything I could ever even dream of making," he insists. "Feel free to make this for me every day for the rest of my life."

"Pretty sure you'd get sick of it." 

"Fine," Jaskier admits. "You can make other stuff as well."

"Very magnanimous," Geralt says. "And I wouldn't mind."

"Hmm?"

"Cooking for you. For the rest of your life," Geralt says haltingly. Jaskier's heart does that stupid little thing in his chest, where it flips and then speeds up.

"I'll hold you to it," he says.

*

Jaskier crawls under the spread out sleeping bag with a yawn. Geralt's put a blanket down on top of the air mattress—Jaskier isn't sure if it's for warmth or for comfort—and there's another spread out on top of them. The days might still be sunny and mild, but the nights get quite nippy and Jaskier is glad for the added layers. And for the fact that his boyfriend runs warm and, which Jaskier was pleasantly surprised to find out the first time they spent the night together, is as much of a cuddler as he is.

So Jaskier shuffles close to Geralt and snuggles up against him, stifling a laugh at the squeaky noises the air mattress makes as he moves and the way it jiggles. "Note to self," Jaskier says around a yawn, "no waterbeds for me."

"You get used to it," Geralt says, winding his arms around Jaskier and pulling closer, until they're perfectly molded together, Jaskier's face tucked into the crook of Geralt's neck.

Jaskier hums contentedly and then moves on purpose, so the mattress jostles them around, and laughs. "It's like being on a boat."

"You're a menace," Geralt complains, pinching Jaskier's hip. "Hold still."

"Hey. _Hey_ , no hurting the boyfriend," Jaskier cries and Geralt shushes him with a laugh.

"Jask. If someone hears you," he starts.

"Oh psh, as if. You picked a spot far, far away from other people, remember, darling? We can probably be as loud as we want to be and nobody would hear us," Jaskier replies, and then pauses. "Which is probably not a good thing in case you really are a murderer after all."

Geralt hums and kisses his temple, then the apple of his cheek. "You've seen through my nefarious plan."

"I'm clever," Jaskier agrees and yawns again.

Geralt tugs the sleeping bag higher around them. "Sleep?" he asks, and Jaskier makes a noise of agreement. He's jostled a little as Geralt reaches to turn off the lantern and then the tent is engulfed in darkness. Geralt settles down again.

"Good night," he murmurs, and Jaskier echoes his words. Silence falls, only interrupted by the rustling of wind in the trees outside. There's a cracking sound, like a twig breaking, and then another, louder this time.

"Geralt?" Jaskier mumbles.

"Hmm."

"There's no dangerous wildlife out there that I need to worry about, right?"

"You're really worried about that?" Geralt asks, amused.

"Yes," Jaskier says, nodding against Geralt's collarbone.

"Hmm, no. The bears and wolves usually don't get close to the campsite."

"Bears and wolves?" Jaskier repeats, his voice going high, and he feels a surge of fear ripple through him.

Geralt laughs, the sound deep and rumbly. "Jask. I was kidding," he says. "Only place you'll find bears and wolves is in zoos."

Jaskier huffs and slaps Geralt's shoulder. "I knew that," he lies. "Asshole."

Geralt chuckles. "Hmm, of course you did," he says. "You're safe in the tent, I promise. If you go outside in the dark, take a flashlight and watch where you're stepping and you'll be fine."

"Watch where I'm stepping because of…" Jaskier prompt, dragging the last word out.

"Snakes," Geralt says. "I don't think there are yellow-tailed scorpions this far north, but keep an eye out anyway. Other than that, the usual." 

"I can't tell if you're kidding or not," Jaskier says, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and wishing it wasn't so damn dark inside the tent so he could look at Geralt and see his expression.

Geralt huffs. "I'm not. Nothing's going to happen to you, just watch where you're stepping and it's fine."

"Yeah, right," Jaskier says faintly. "I'm not leaving this tent until it's light outside. And then I'm just going to follow in your footsteps."

"Jask," Geralt says, tone fond and amused. 

"You said there could be snakes, Geralt," Jaskier exclaims in a whisper. 

"Why are you whispering? Afraid one is outside, eavesdropping?"

"Maybe," Jaskier sniffs. "Maybe it's gathering all its little snake friends and building an army out there, just waiting for me to come out of the tent so they can devour me."

"Ah yes," Geralt says. "The very common occurrence of organized snake attacks on innocent humans."

"You're making fun of me."

"You're being an idiot," Geralt replies with a snort and gathers Jaskier against him, kissing the top of his head. "Sleep. I'll keep you safe from snakes."

"Will you come with me if I need to get up to pee?" Jaskier asks, words muffled against Geralt's chest. "Please."

"Hmm. Yes," Geralt says, and Jaskier feels slightly reassured by the knowledge that Geralt will protect him. 

*

Jaskier wakes up to pitch-black darkness and for a moment he thinks he's at home. He shifts to catch a look at the glowing numbers of his alarm clock and the mattress under him wobbles and he remembers he's in a tent.

Next to him, Geralt makes a quiet disgruntled noise. He's a warm line against Jaskier's side, curled against him, and Jaskier shuffles closer to steal more of his body heat. It's cold inside the tent and now that he thinks about it, Jaskier thinks that might be what made him wake up. His feet are freezing and he tries to nudge them between Geralt's while tugging the layers of sleeping bag and woolen blanket higher up to his neck. 

"Jask?" Geralt mumbles.

"Sorry," Jaskier says. "Cold."

He wiggles the one foot he's managed to trap between Geralt's and presses the tip of his cold nose against the warm skin of Geralt's neck.

Geralt makes a startled noise and moves, leaning over Jaskier and then fumbling around. The light of the lantern fills the tent and Jaskier blinks at it, whining when Geralt crawls out from under their cocoon and cold air momentarily seeps in.

"What are you doing?" Jaskier asks, squinting to see Geralt ruffle around his trekking backpack. He tosses a hoodie and a rolled up pair of thick socks towards Jaskier. 

"Put these on," he says. "I have another blanket in the car. Want me to go get it?"

Jaskier snuffles, pulling the clothes under the bedding with him so he doesn't get exposed to the cold air. "No, this is fine," he says. "Come back here and keep me warm."

Geralt hums and crawls back onto the mattress with him. Jaskier pulls Geralt's hoodie on first, wiggling around and tugging at the material until he has it on properly, and then puts the socks on next. He instantly feels better, though that might just be because wearing Geralt's clothes always makes him feel nice and comfortable, and he happily snuggles up against Geralt again, waiting for him to turn the light off.

*

The next time Jaskier wakes up, it's morning and inside the tent it has warmed up noticeably. So much so that Jaskier feels just this side of too warm, but Geralt's hoodie is soft and Jaskier feels cozy and comfortable lying in Geralt's arms, face squished against his chest, so he makes no move to get out of their little cocoon. 

Geralt is already awake too, fingers playing with Jaskier's hair, and Jaskier hums contentedly. 

"Morning," Geralt murmurs, voice low and deep with sleep and it sends a small shiver through Jaskier. "Sleep well?"

"Hmm. Morning," Jaskier echoes. "I did. No frostbite. Or snake bites."

Geralt laughs softly. "Good."

Jaskier makes a quiet noise of agreement and yawns. He burrows closer to Geralt still, his hips bumping into Geralt's thigh, and he stifles a moan at the innocent contact. 

"Well. You're up," Geralt notes, the hand that has been resting on Jaskier's back sliding lower, down to the hem of the hoodie. Warm fingers slip underneath the fabric and stroke over the small of Jaskier's back.

"Wanna do something about it?" Jaskier asks and rolls his hips against Geralt with more purpose, rubbing his half-hard cock against him. 

Moments later, Jaskier finds himself flipped onto his back, with Geralt hovering over him. His hair is a tangled mess, his amber eyes warm as they look down at Jaskier and Jaskier has just enough time to smile up at Geralt before Geralt kisses him. Jaskier tangles his fingers in Geralt's hair, tugging at it as he parts his mouth under Geralt's and groans into the kiss. 

Geralt slips his hand under the front of Jaskier's hoodie, fingers tracing over his belly and skimming over the waistband of his boxer briefs, as he kisses Jaskier deep and slow. The remnants of sleep are still clinging to Jaskier's mind, making him feel drowsy and pliant and relaxed, even as arousal starts to burn through his veins. He moans lowly against Geralt's mouth when Geralt nudges a leg between Jaskier's, presses his thigh up against Jaskier's cock.

They break apart with a soft sound and Geralt lifts his head, looking down at Jaskier with eyes that are slightly darker, his cheeks flushed. His hand slides a little higher, stroking over skin, and Jaskier rocks down against his leg, seeking more friction.

"Jask," Geralt murmurs and leans back down, kissing and nipping at Jaskier's neck. "Fuck. You look so hot when you wear my clothes."

Jaskier lets out a ragged laugh. "Yeah? It's the socks that do it for you, isn't it?" he says playfully and rubs one sock-clad foot up and down Geralt's calf to make a point.

Geralt laughs against the side of his throat. "Hmm. Totally," he deadpans. 

"Do you want to pull the blankets down so you can get a proper look at my feet?" Jaskier asks, tugging at Geralt's hair again. "I aim to please, after all, darling."

"Brat," Geralt murmurs. 

"You like me bratty," Jaskier says, words trailing off in a moan when Geralt slides his hand down and palms his cock through his underwear. 

"Hmm," Geralt hums and rubs him. Jaskier rocks his hips up with a mewl.

"Fuck, Geralt," he gasps. 

"Want something?" Geralt asks, and his touch feels good, but it's too light and Jaskier nods his head frantically.

"Yes. Yes, come on. Touch me."

"Ah, suddenly not so interested in mouthing off, huh?" Geralt teases.

Jaskier pouts up at him. "You're mean. Horribly, horribly mean," he says and then groans when Geralt worms his way inside his boxer briefs and wraps his fingers around his hard cock. "Oh, yes. I mean, nice. The nicest. Fuck, please, touch me."

Geralt snorts and starts stroking him, while nuzzling his neck and pressing open-mouthed kisses to his skin. Jaskier rocks his hips up into Geralt's touch, groaning in pleasure when Geralt tightens his grip on him. He strokes him slowly at first, teasingly, until Jaskier is a writhing, whimpering mess, arching up desperately.

"Please. Fuck, Geralt. I need more. Please, please, _please_ ," he begs and Geralt nips at his neck, the pain sharp and sudden, and Jaskier lets out a needy whine. 

"Shh. Shh, I've got you," Geralt soothes and he swipes his thumb over the crown of Jaskier's cock, gathering precome and smearing it around before he starts stroking him again, finally speeding up.

"Like that?" he asks, his voice pitched low and heat coils in Jaskier's belly at the sound of the low rumble and the touch. His _yes_ comes out garbled and his cheeks feel too hot and his skin too tight. He grips Geralt tightly, one hand still tangled in his hair, and lets gasps and moans spill from his mouth freely as he thrusts up eagerly.

"Come for me then," Geralt murmurs. "Darling."

He rarely ever uses pet names, only in bed, when Jaskier gets like this, and it sends Jaskier's head spinning, the coil of want tightening, the pleasure spreading. He comes with a loud cry, his orgasm crashing over him. 

Geralt murmurs his name and strokes him through it, until Jaskier is trembling and shuddering, his breathing wet and ragged. "Oh fuck," he says hoarsely, and Geralt hums and shushes him with a kiss, his hand stilling. 

"Good?"

"Always," Jaskier mumbles and lifts his head, chasing Geralt's lips until he gets another kiss. 

Geralt pulls his hand free and Jaskier makes a little disappointed noise even if his body feels absolutely sated and done. Geralt curls his hand around Jaskier's hip, squeezing and pulling him towards him, while deepening their kiss. He doesn't seem _needy_ , exactly, because the man has more self-control than anyone else Jaskier has ever met, but he's learned to read the signs, the way his fingers flex on Jaskier's hips, the way he sounds slightly breathless.

Jaskier pushes at his shoulder until Geralt allows himself to be rolled onto his back.

"My turn," Jaskier says, pressing a final kiss to Geralt's mouth, before shimming down Geralt's body, sliding under the bedding. He rucks Geralt's t-shirt up and presses fevernt, open-mouthed kisses to his stomach, moving down until he feels the bulge of Geralt's cock bump against his chin. He rests his hands on Geralt's thighs, nudging them further apart so he can settle more comfortably between them. 

He nuzzles Geralt through his underwear, listening to the quiet groan he elicits. There's a wet spot soaking through the fabric already and Jaskier sucks at it, mouthing at the head of Geralt's cock through the fabric, getting it all soaked in his spit. 

"Jask," Geralt groans. 

Jaskier smiles to himself and hums, hooking his fingers underneath the waistband of Geralt's boxer briefs and tugging them down to his thighs. 

He can't see much under the blanket, but he's eager to get his mouth on Geralt anyway. He can picture him perfectly, hard and thick and flushed, the tip wet with precome. He ducks his head down, breathes in the heady, musky scent, lips brushing against Geralt. He blindly peppers kisses up his length, teasing, and finally curls his hand around the base as he mouthes at the head of Geralt's cock, closing his lips around him.

Geralt's hips twitch up and he grunts, and Jaskier tongues over the slit, sucks at the tip and gets Geralt slick and messy with his spit before he takes him in deeper. The weight and taste of him is familiar, but it has become no less thrilling over time and Jaskier loves having Geralt in his mouth. Loves sucking him down, the little grunts and moans he draws from Geralt when he hollows his cheeks, when he lets him slide in deep. He palms Geralt's balls with his free hand, fondling them as he starts moving his mouth up and down, and moans around Geralt. He's big and Jaskier loves the way his mouth feels stretched around him, loves taking him deep until it feels like he's going to choke on him, loves how powerful he feels giving Geralt pleasure like this. 

"Fuck, Jaskier. Feels good," Geralt hisses. His fingers tangle in Jaskier's hair and his hips twitch up, but he doesn't thrust into Jaskier's mouth, doesn't pull or push him where he wants him, because he's always such a fucking gentleman even when Jaskier doesn't need him to be. 

Jaskier hums around him, making Geralt shudder under him. He starts working the base of Geralt's cock with his hand, the strokes slicked by his own spit, and lifts up to suck at the head and from the noises Geralt is making Jaskier can tell it won't take much for him to come. He doubles his efforts, letting Geralt slip in and out as he sucks around him, strokes him the way he knows Geralt likes it.

"Jask. Gonna come," Geralt hisses, going tense under Jaskier and then he shudders and spills into his mouth, the salty, bitter taste of his come hitting Jaskier's tongue. He keeps stroking Geralt, slow and smooth, and swallows what he can. He only lets Geralt fall from his mouth when he feels him go lax underneath him. Jaskier licks him clean as best as he can without seeing much, pressing small kisses to him before he shifts up, resting his head on Geralt's belly. 

He lets out a pleased noise when Geralt starts carding his fingers through his hair. 

"Aren't you suffocating down there?" Geralt asks.

Jaskier hums. "Only a little," he says, and Geralt laughs, lifting the layers of their bedding and letting cool, fresh hair in. 

"Come up here, you idiot," he says, and Jaskier peers up at him with a smile, happy and sated. 

"Come on," Geralt urges again, and Jaskier crawls up his body, but only far enough to collapse back down with his head on Geralt's chest, the mattress shaking under them. 

It's definitely too warm now and they're both sweaty and gross, but he doesn't care, happy to be held and enjoy the afterglow.

*

It's late enough in the morning that they find the showers deserted and Jaskier smirks at Geralt before pulling him into one of the stalls with him.

"What do you think you're doing?" Geralt asks.

"Saving us money and saving water. It's a win/win for us and the environment," Jaskier replies.

"You'll get us in trouble," Geralt says, but he starts stripping out of his clothes alongside Jaskier, making sure everything is placed where it won't get wet once Geralt has put some coins into the little machine and the water is on. 

It takes a moment for the water to heat up and even then it's only lukewarm, but the pressure is decent enough and there's just enough room for the both of them to fit comfortably and not bump into anything as they move around. 

They probably don't end up saving water or money, because they keep getting distracted, sharing kisses and letting hands roam over wet, soapy skin for longer than necessary as they wash each other. 

Getting dressed again after the shower is a lot less fun. The little space to dry off and hang your clothes is too cramped for two grown men to move around and Jaskier's skin is still damp, making it even more difficult to pull his clothes on while making sure nothing touches the wet tiles. 

Jaskier is almost done when the door to the little building that houses the showers opens with a squeak, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. Geralt's eyes widen and he looks so caught that Jaskier has to press a hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter.

"Shh," Geralt hisses, but he has to press his lips together as well. Jaskier drops his forehead onto Geralt's shoulder, muffling little giggles against his shirt. They wait until they hear the door of a cubicle shut and the lock latch into place.

"You leave first, I'll follow in a second," Geralt mutters, and Jaskier winks at him and grabs his things. He ducks out of the stall and then saunters out of the building, spinning around and watching Geralt emerge moments after him. 

Jaskier grins at him. "That was fun, huh?" he asks and finally allows himself to laugh.

"You're a menace," Geralt mutters.

"Oh, please. Admit it, that was hilarious," Jaskier says, slipping his hand into Geralt's and leaning into him as they head back to their tent. "It's not like we even did anything."

"Pretty sure that's still against the rules."

"Oh, pff, rules. Who needs rules?" Jaskier says dismissively, grinning. 

Geralt huffs.

"Come on. You had fun. Say you had fun," Jaskier wheedles. "I bet this has been the most fun camping trip you've ever been on."

"Only because I got a blowjob this morning," Geralt replies.

Jaskier narrows his eyes at Geralt. "Rude," he says. "We've been having a great time. I'm excellent company. I've met your brothers several times and no offense but I'm a lot more fun than they are."

"You're not horrible," Geralt concedes with a little grin and Jaskier rolls his eyes at him. 

"The things I have to put up with," he grumbles good-naturedly. 

*

Somehow, over breakfast, Geralt convinces Jaskier to go on a hike. Jaskier suspects he agrees for the same reason he agreed to go camping in the first place—because his brain doesn't work properly around Geralt and is reduced to ' _yes, dear, anything you want I'll do it'_. 

Geralt packs a small backpack, though he promises he isn't going to drag Jaskier on a hike for hours, he just wants to bring some water along. 

Jaskier checks that the car is locked three times, because his precious guitar is in the back, and when he turns he finds Geralt looking dubiously at his feet.

"You're wearing those?"

Jaskier looks down at his tattered canvas shoes and frowns. "Yes?"

"Are those the only shoes you brought along?" Geralt asks.

Jaskier huffs. "Of course not. I brought _options_ , of course." 

"Any of them happen to be hiking boots?"

Jaskier looks at Geralt and furrows his brows. "Darling. You think I own a pair of hiking boots?" he asks. "I'm not sure whether to be amused or insulted." 

"Jask."

"These will be fine," Jaskier says. "If I can perform and go shopping in them for hours, a little hike won't hurt."

Geralt doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't press the issue and Jaskier secretly thinks his concern is very cute.

Jaskier mildly regrets his decision not an hour later. It's perfectly fine at first, but the soles of his shoes aren't very thick and he feels every rock, pebble and root under his feet and they start to feel a little sore eventually. He doesn't say a word, not wanting to let Geralt know he was right, and he lets their surroundings distract him. He's a city kid, mostly because he always lived in urban areas and his family wasn't the outdoorsy type, but Jaskier is starting to appreciate being out in nature more and more. Geralt lives in a house outside the city and while Jaskier's lack of a car makes it more convenient for them to spend time at his apartment, he loves being at Geralt's, how peaceful it feels to look outside in the morning and see nothing but fields and trees, the way the air smells so much cleaner and life seems a little less hectic. 

Jaskier has found how much he appreciates these things and he appreciates them now despite the ache in his feet. He loves the earthy smell, the views across the landscape and the chirping of the birds around them. He points out every single one he sees, asking Geralt to tell him what each one is called, and he has a feeling Geralt is making half of the names up, but Jaskier doesn't mind. Geralt seems happy and in his element, and even if Jaskier hated hiking, he would enjoy this just because he gets to see Geralt like this. 

And he looks _damn_ good today, too. All in black, of course, save for his dark brown, heavy hiking boots, his grey hair pulled back in a low bun. Jaskier spends as much time looking at him as marveling at the nature around them and he thinks he wouldn't mind doing this more often.

He's still glad when Geralt suggests they take a break and they sit down on a fallen log to drink some water.

"Here," Geralt says and tosses a chocolate bar onto Jaskier's lap.

"Chocolate!" Jaskier crows and rips the packaging open eagerly. "You know me so well! Thank you."

"Hmm. Know you get cranky if you don't get enough sugar," Geralt says, lips curved into a small smile. 

Jaskier can't even deny it, so he shrugs and takes a bite of the chocolate bar. He offers it to Geralt, holding it out, but Geralt shakes his head, taking a few more sips of water while Jaskier munches his candy. 

"Ready to get going again?" Geralt asks when Jaskier has finished the last bite. Jaskier licks chocolate off his fingers and nods, and then looks around to figure out what to do with the wrapper.

"Here, I've got a bag where we can put our trash," Geralt says and takes it. He pulls a little bag out of his backpack and puts the wrapper inside, and it makes Jaskier's heart warm a little that Geralt is the kind of person who thinks about these kinds of things and is prepared. 

Smiling to himself, Jaskier gets up. It's then that he notices the pressure on his bladder and frowns. "Ugh, I think I need to pee."

Geralt hums and slides the straps of the backpack over his shoulders. "There's nobody around. Just pick a tree." 

Jaskier looks at the trees around them dubiously. "Snakes and scorpions and killer spiders," he says.

Geralt snorts. "You'll be fine."

Jaskier looks at him, eyes wide and lips turned down. "Really? You're not even a little worried for my life?"

"You want me to come and keep watch?" Geralt jokes and Jaskier cocks his head to the side.

"You promised me last night that you would," he says with a small pout. "At least check out the place first. You're much better at this nature stuff, Geralt. I don't want to accidentally pee on a snake and make it angry. Please?"

"Fine," Geralt says with a small grin. 

Jaskier beams at him. "And they say chivalry is dead," he says. 

*

By the time they near the campsite again, Jaskier is pretty sure there's a blister under his right foot and he's walking stiffly, trying to school his face so the pain doesn't show, but he's pretty sure that just makes him look like he's scowling. Geralt shoots him small looks.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," Jaskier grumbles.

"I told you the shoes—" Geralt starts and Jaskier interrupts him with a scoff.

"Yes, yes. You told me so," he snipes. "Good for you."

He sees Geralt snap his mouth shut, jaw tense, and instantly feels guilty. He moves closer to Geralt's side, wrapping his hands around Geralt's arm and pressing a kiss to the curve of his shoulder.

"Sorry," he murmurs. "I'm just being moody."

"Hmm."

"Don't be upset with me," Jaskier says. "I don't want to ruin the mood."

"I'm not upset," Geralt reassures him, but Jaskier isn't quite convinced, so he stays attached to Geralt's side, because Geralt can't be mad at him when he's being cute and cuddly and affectionate. The by now noticeable limp in his steps hopefully elicits some pity as well. 

Jaskier is glad when they finally reach their campsite and he can flop down into one of the camping chairs Geralt brought. Geralt puts his backpack down and sits down in the second chair, moving it so he's sitting across from Jaskier. 

"Which foot hurts?" 

Jaskier shifts and sighs. "Both are a little sore. I think I might have a blister under the right one," he admits. "But it's not a big deal." 

"Hmm," Geralt hums and pats his thigh. "Show me."

Jaskier bends down to take off his shoe and sock before lifting his foot up on Geralt's thigh as requested.

Geralt cups it in his hands, running his thumbs over the soles. "Yeah, there's a blister on the ball of your foot. Hasn't burst though, that's good," he says and his touch turns more into a rubbing and Jaskier groans. "Good?"

"Yes," Jaskier says.

Geralt chuckles. "Let me look at your other foot. We'll put a plaster on the blister," he says. "And then if you're good I'll give you a foot rub."

"If I'm good?"

"Hmm. Brats don't get foot rubs," Geralt teases.

Jaskier huffs, but takes off his other shoe and sock, letting Geralt take a look at that one as well before he goes to get a first-aid kit from the car. 

Geralt pulls the hurt foot back onto his lap and sticks the plaster over the blister and Jaskier gives him a somber look. 

"What's the verdict, doctor? Will I ever be able to walk again?"

"I think chances are good," Geralt replies and lifts the foot up, pressing a kiss to the arch. 

"Geralt! Gross. My feet probably smell horrible after all the walking we did," Jaskier says, scrunching his nose up as his cheeks grow hot.

Geralt looks at him slightly exasperated. "I've had my mouth on pretty much every part of your body, including eating your ass out regularly. I think I can handle smelly feet."

"Well, now I just feel self-conscious about you eating me out," Jaskier replies with a pout.

Geralt snorts. "As if," he says. "Now be good or no foot rub, remember?"

Jaskier mimes zipping his mouth shut. Geralt looks at him for a moment, like he doesn't quite think Jaskier can actually keep quiet, before he nods.

"Alright," he says and shifts Jaskier's foot on his lap, thumbs pressing into the arch. Jaskier lets out a low groan and chooses to ignore Geralt's smug smirk just in case making a snarky comment will cause Geralt to stop.

After the foot rub, Geralt makes a quick run to the campsite store to stock up on some food, but not before getting Jaskier a pair of socks so he won't get cold and telling him to stay off his feet while he is gone.

Jaskier uses the time to flip through the photos he took on the hike and check his messages. Triss and Priscilla both want to know if he's still alive or if he's managed to kill himself yet, something Jaskier finds mildly insulting, so he texts them back that not only is he still alive, he's having a great time and he's awesome at camping. They don't need to know about the blister—that's not even a real injury, just a minor inconvenience. He also has a text from Lambert, telling him to, _"Let my asshole brother up for air once in a while and tell him to reply to my messages._ "

Jaskier snorts and replies, _"Who is this?"_

Since Geralt still hasn't come back when he hits send and he's bored, he drafts an Instagram post, picking four of his favorite pictures he took that day. Three of them are of the landscape and forest and one is of him and Geralt, smiling into the camera—Jaskier's smile wide and Geralt's small and soft, but still there. Jaskier usually uses his account to promote his music and gigs, interspersed with random snapshots, but there are only two other pictures of Geralt on his account, one of which is a group shot after a gig he played recently. 

When Geralt returns, Jaskier tips his head back and smiles sweetly, holding his phone out to Geralt. "Can I post this?" 

Geralt puts the groceries down and grabs two beers, exchanging one for Jaskier's phone. 

"Hmm."

"Is that a yes?"

"That's a _hmm_ ," Geralt replies. "I think your connection is way too crappy to make a post."

"You said there's wifi near the reception building, right?" Jaskier asks. 

"I also said you should stay off your foot."

"It's a _blister_ ," Jaskier says with exasperated fondness. 

Geralt grunts. "I'll go see if I can find better reception somewhere. You stay, drink your beer," he says, and Jaskier heaves a sigh but smiles.

"Alright. Alright," he says. "Go, shoo, you overprotective lug. And don't you dare change the caption."

"I hadn't thought of it until now," Geralt says with a little smirk.

"I said don't you dare," Jaskier repeats, wagging his finger at Geralt. Geralt looks thoughtful, taking a few steps back with Jaskier's phone still clutched in his hand.

"I'll think about it," he says and then turns around.

"Geralt!" Jaskier calls after him in warning, and Geralt only laughs in reply. Jaskier glares at his retreating back and hopes Geralt can feel the weight of his stare and knows he's serious.

Geralt returns only a couple of minutes later and Jaskier takes it as a good sign that he doesn't look particularly gleeful.

"You don't actually have to go very far to get wifi," he notes, handing Jaskier his phone back with a quick kiss.

Jaskier opens Instagram and checks the caption—unchanged—as Geralt grabs a beer for himself and sits down next to him.

"Thank you, darling," Jaskier says. "Lambert texted me by the way. He wants you to check your messages and reply."

"I did check them. But I'm taking a break from work and annoying little brothers," Geralt replies. "Tell him to go pester Eskel if he needs attention." 

"What am I? Your personal assistant?" Jaskier mocks. 

"Hmm, that might be fun," Geralt replies, wiggling his eyebrows. "Though _I'm_ the one who just went to make a post to social media for you."

"Because I'm gravely injured," Jaskier says dramatically. 

"I thought it was _just a blister_."

Jaskier turns the corners of his mouth down and sticks his bottom lip out, peering at Geralt. "A horribly bad blister. I fear you will have to take care of me and pamper me for the rest of the trip, Geralt," he says. 

"Like I haven't been doing that already?" Geralt counters. 

"Hmm, you're right. And have I told you lately that you're the world's best boyfriend?" Jaskier asks sweetly, fluttering his eyelashes. 

Geralt grunts and looks down at the beer in his hands.

"Hey," Jaskier calls quietly. "You know I mean that, right? You're always so good to me. And somehow you haven't gotten sick of me yet, which I've been told isn't easy."

"That's because you've only ever dated assholes, Jaskier," Geralt replies.

"That, my dear," Jaskier says and raises his bottle in salute, "is the truth. Good thing I've stopped doing that." 

Geralt smiles at him and makes a noise of agreement.

*

Jaskier leafs through the pamphlets he picked up the other day, trying to find something in the area for them to do tomorrow, while Geralt prepares dinner. 

He dismisses a few things that sound too touristy or like they might be too crowded, trying to find something that will appeal to both him and Geralt.

"Are there rules about what we can do?" he asks.

Geralt looks up from the tomato sauce he's stirring in a little pot on the camping cooker. "Rules?"

"You know. A code of behavior for campers," Jaskier says. "I don't want to accidentally pick an activity that will make other campers frown at us and judge us behind our backs because we went against the age-old traditions of camping trips."

"You do know we haven't joined a cult, we're just sleeping in a tent, right?" 

Jaskier purses his lips. "Are you sure? The way everyone seems to be wearing more or less the same hideous pair of trousers is giving me pause," he says. "I get that the material is great for tents, but why make clothes out of it too? It's not very flattering." 

Geralt lets out a small laugh. "They're practical."

"Practical fashion," Jaskier says and shudders. "What a nightmare." 

"Hmm. So I look that bad, huh?"

"Yours are black, it helps. And you always look ravishing no matter what, it's your gift," Jaskier says, studying Geralt where he's kneeling by the cooker, the black material of said trousers stretched tight over his ass and snug around his thighs. "Hmm. And a gift to us all, actually."

"Less ogling, more planning," Geralt says and ducks his head. Jaskier thinks his cheeks look faintly pink. Geralt gets embarrassed about compliments and it makes no sense to Jaskier, because how can anyone meet this man and not shower him in praise?

"Okay. So no rules," he says, glancing down at the pamphlets on his lap. "So you'd be okay with taking the car and going on a small trip."

"Hmm. Where?"

Jaskier licks his lips and shuffles the folded papers into a pile. "Well, one of these gave me an idea. We're not too far from the coast," he says. "I thought we could maybe go and make a day out of it. Just stroll down some beach. I'm sure we can find a cute little town somewhere, too." 

"Sounds good to me," Geralt agrees, and Jaskier feels a pleased smile spreading across his face, knowing he's found something that Geralt will enjoy as well. 

*

They sit by the firepit, bellies full and the fire the only source of light. Jaskier has his guitar in his lap, strumming it quietly and humming and singing lines in between making conversation. 

"Sing one of yours," Geralt prompts, his smile soft.

"You want me to serenade you?" Jaskier teases.

"Hmm. Maybe."

Jaskier bites down on his bottom lip, grinning. "Okay, prepare to be wowed, darling," he boasts and winks at Geralt, before he starts playing a new tune. Instead of going for something flashy and sappy, he picks something quiet and soft, a song he wrote not too long ago with Geralt on his mind. 

Geralt watches him, arms resting on his bent knees, a half-full bottle of beer dangling from his fingers. There's something intimate about performing for just one person and Jaskier feels a nervous flutter in his stomach, feels warm and excited under the weight of Geralt's stare. 

"That's one of yours?" Geralt asks when the last note rings through the air and Jaskier's fingers rest on his guitar. 

"Yes," Jaskier says and licks his bottom lip nervously. "You like it? That's the first time I performed it for someone else."

"It's good," Geralt says and smiles. "Gentle, I guess. Calm."

"Yes. Yes, it is," Jaskier agrees, because that's exactly how Geralt makes him feel. Jaskier isn't a quiet person; there's always something buzzing under his skin, an energy that makes him want to move and sing and talk, something that makes him teeter dangerously between excitement and anxiety. But being with Geralt makes him feel anchored, soothed. 

"It's about you. Us," he adds, watching Geralt for his reaction.

Geralt meets his eyes and he doesn't look terribly surprised, but definitely a bit pleased. Jaskier's heart patters in his chest, fast and hopeful.

"Jask," Geralt says in a low murmur. "I love you."

Jaskier's breath leaves him in a quiet, jubilant laugh, lips stretching into a wide smile and the warmth inside of him spreads, grows. "Yeah?" he asks and Geralt hums. "Me too. I love you too."

He laughs again and shakes his head at himself, carefully putting his guitar down before scooting closer to Geralt, who instantly shifts to accommodate him against his side, slipping an arm around to rest on his hip.

"Oh, I can't believe you said it first," Jaskier murmurs and presses a kiss to Geralt's jaw, then another and another, until Geralt turns his head and catches his mouth with his. 

"I can take it back," he offers, words slurred against Jaskier's lips.

Jaskier cups Geralt's jaw and shakes his head. "No, you cannot. I forbid it," he says. "I will forever live with the shame that you, who communicates in hums and grunts more often than not, said I love you first. But you are never allowed to take those words back."

"Hmm," Geralt replies, lips quirked in a smug grin.

"Oh, you terrible, awful man," Jaskier says, shaking his head at him. "I'm so terribly in love with you. I've been wanting to tell you for so long."

"Why didn't you? Thought you never kept anything to yourself."

"I didn't want to say it too soon, scare you off," Jaskier admits with a sigh and rests his forehead against Geralt's jaw, rubbing his cold nose under it. 

"Wouldn't have."

Jaskier snorts. "Oh, no. I would have," he says. "I told Priscilla that I would spend the rest of my life with you after the first date, darling."

"Hmm. That's because you have a horrible track record. You were easy to impress," Geralt teases. "I just had to pay for dinner and nod when you talked."

Jaskier shifts so he can rest his head on Geralt's shoulder, lean into his side more comfortably. "That's not a complete lie," he admits. He smiles when he feels a kiss brushed over the crown of his head. "When did you know?"

"That you're easy?" Geralt asks and grunts out a laugh when Jaskier digs his elbow into his stomach. "I don't know. Just… happened, I suppose. But I had a pretty good feeling about us by the third date."

"Geralt," Jaskier groans.

"When you fell asleep on me ten minutes into the movie and drooled on my shirt," Geralt continues and Jaskier straightens to glare at him, slapping his arm.

"You're awful," he says. "You promised we'd never talk about that again."

Geralt looks amused and Jaskier sticks out his bottom lip. Geralt's smile only grows bigger and he takes Jaskier's chin in his hand, thumbing over his lip.

"You were completely exhausted, but you still didn't cancel our date."

"I wanted to see you," Jaskier mumbles.

"Exactly," Geralt says. 

"Oh," Jaskier says and smiles. "So that's what won you over? Stupid decisions and a bit of drool?"

"Yeah. Mostly the drool though," Geralt replies and Jaskier huffs out a laugh.

Geralt's hand slips to the side of his face and he draws Jaskier into another kiss. 

When the first raindrop hits Jaskier's cheek, he ignores it, too distracted by the way Geralt's lips feel, the wet slide of his tongue slipping past his parted mouth. Then there's another and another, and Jaskier springs back.

"Shit, my guitar!" he exclaims.

He manages to get it safely in its case and inside the car just before the rain seriously picks up. They pack the rest of their things away in a hurry and by the time they crawl into their tent, they're both wet and Jaskier is starting to shiver.

"Fucking hell," he mutters under his breath, the steady patter of rain falling down echoing loudly in the small tent.

Geralt turns the lantern on. "Let's get out of our wet clothes," he says, and Jaskier wipes dripping hair out of his face and nods. They strip down quickly, limbs bumping into each other a few times.

"How do we get these dry?" he asks, dropping his sweatshirt onto his lap and running his fingers through his hair, tousling it. 

"Just put everything aside. Hopefully it's not gonna rain tomorrow and we can hang them out to dry," Geralt says, and Jaskier nods.

"It better not. I want to go to the coast," he says and kicks his shoes off before shimmying out of his jeans. "What do we do if it rains all day? There don't seem to be many inside activities around here."

Geralt shrugs. He's stripping down to his underwear, scooting back to sit on the middle of the mattress. "Stay in here all day," he says, giving Jaskier a slow look. "I'm sure we can find something to do to pass the time."

A slow heat settles in the pit of Jaskier's stomach, looking at Geralt and thinking about spending an entire day with him in the tent, naked and wrapped up in each other. His hair is still tied back, but a few wet strands have come loose, hanging in his face, and there are drops of water on his collarbone. He looks good, he _always_ looks good, but the rush of _want_ Jaskier feels right now almost leaves him breathless.

Geralt gives him a knowing little grin. "Come here."

Jaskier clambers up onto his knees and crawls over awkwardly, right onto Geralt's lap. Geralt slips his arms around him, one hand flat on his lower back and one on the curve of his ass, and hums as Jaskier tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Hi," Jaskier whispers and kisses Geralt.

Geralt slides his hand up to Jaskier's neck and pulls him closer with the other and they both groan. The hot line of Geralt's cock, not yet hard but nonetheless big, presses against Jaskier's and he rolls his hips down against Geralt, already feeling needy and excited.

"Want you," he says, and Geralt makes a quiet, pleased noise and flips them over. 

Jaskier bounces as he hits the mattress, and the way it jiggles and squeaks under them makes him laugh. Geralt hides his snort against the curve of Jaskier's neck, pressing kisses to the skin, and Jaskier can feel his smile.

Jaskier reaches for the back of Geralt's hair, tugging the tie loose so he can bury his hands in Geralt's long hair, feel it tickle against his skin as it falls down. Geralt's weight on top of him pins him down, his legs spread around Geralt's, and he tilts his hips up, rocks his quickly growing erection against Geralt as Geralt kisses and bites at his neck.

"Fuck me," he says breathlessly, and then snickers, "if we can figure this out on this stupid mattress."

Geralt noses the line of Jaskier's jaw. "I'm not gonna stop until we do," he promises, his voice thick. He slides warm hands down Jaskier's sides and swallows Jaskier's reply in a kiss.

It's definitely not as easy as it is in a real bed, but it's no less good. Jaskier breaks out into helpless, breathless giggles more than once when the mattress makes weird, creaking sounds under them and Geralt almost topples down on top of him when he pushes himself up to try reaching for his rucksack to retrieve condoms and lube. And somehow that makes it _better_ , the smiles and laughter, the awkward fumbling, the way things are so far from perfect. It makes Jaskier feel giddy and happy and helplessly in love with Geralt. 

And it still feels so damn _good_. They kiss and touch and stroke, tangled up in each other as the rain continues to pelt down onto the tent, the noise almost drowning out their moans and gasps. Geralt works Jaskier open with slick fingers, pressing in deep and rubbing against his prostate, not stopping until he has four fingers inside of Jaskier and Jaskier feels dizzy with how good it feels, stretched wide and filled perfectly, and he has to squeeze the base of his cock to keep from coming, begging Geralt to just fucking _take_ him already.

Geralt pulls his fingers free and then he kisses Jaskier sweetly, slowly, as if he is in no hurry despite the fact that he's rock-hard and leaking precome against Jaskier's thigh.

"Please, darling," Jaskier pleads. "Come on. Fuck me. Make me fucking scream, Geralt."

Geralt hums and guides Jaskier's legs around his waist, and then he sinks into Jaskier. He doesn't give him time to adjust or catch his breath, he just presses in with one smooth stroke and then kisses Jaskier's moan from his lips as he starts fucking him. Slow and almost sweet at first, but then harder and faster, until the mattress shakes under them and Jaskier gasps and moans at each thrust, fingers digging into Geralt's shoulders and sweat building at his temples. It's perfect, the way it always is with Geralt, because Geralt is _good_ and because Jaskier loves him so desperately, so devastatingly. He's big and thick and hot inside of him, sliding against Jaskier's prostate with each thrust, his weight pressing Jaskier down and his hands holding Jaskier steady and Jaskier's name falling from his lips as if it's a revelation. 

"Geralt. _Geralt_ ," Jaskier chants and slips one hand into Geralt's hair, tangling his fingers in it and tugging at it, and he wants this man so much. Wants him forever.

Jaskier comes with a cry, without even a single touch, and Geralt groans into the curve of his neck, fucks him harder, his movements getting sloppy and needy, until he spills inside Jaskier with a groan.

After, when the sweat starts cooling on their bodies and the euphoria of the orgasms starts to fade away, Geralt lifts himself off Jaskier. He zips open the small windows on each side of the tent, letting air in, the rain having slowed down to a soft drizzle. He lies back down, pulling a woolen blanket from the bottom of the mattress over them both, and ends up sprawled half over Jaskier. He nuzzles Jaskier's neck, presses kisses to his skin, and Jaskier sighs and cards his fingers through Geralt's damp, tangled hair.

"Love you," Geralt murmurs, continuing to scatter kisses over Jaskier's neck and collarbone. Jaskier wraps himself even more around Geralt, tangling their legs and holding him close.

"God, I love you, too," he murmurs and gives a breathless laugh. "I love you. It feels so nice to say it."

Geralt hums a noise of agreement and Jaskier smiles against his hair.

They untangle eventually, when the air in the tent cools down and Jaskier starts burrowing against Geralt to seek additional warmth. Jaskier wishes they didn't have to get dressed, because he loves sleeping in a tangle of bare limbs with Geralt, but Geralt pushes last night's hoodie and socks at him and Jaskier puts them on, not wanting to wake up with his teeth chattering again.

They cuddle up under the blanket and sleeping bag again and Jaskier drifts off, warm and sated and cozy.

*

The sun peeks out while they're having breakfast the next morning. The ground is still wet but the temperatures are mild and according to the weather app on Jaskier's phone it's promising to be a nice day. He's only a little disappointed that they won't spend the day inside their tent after all, but he's excited to head to the coast.

It's a good 45-minute drive and Jaskier puts on another one of his playlists, singing and humming along as he switches back and forth between watching the scenery and watching Geralt. 

When the sea finally comes into view, just a sliver at the horizon, Jaskier gasps. "Geralt, look," he says, pawing at Geralt's arm blindly while keeping his eyes fixed on the view out of the window.

Geralt chuckles. "Hmm. Not much to see yet."

"Still," Jaskier insists and picks up his phone from between them. He unplugs it and shifts to take a few pictures. Geralt is right, there really isn't much to see yet, and looking at the photos on his small screen the line of water is barely visible at all, but it doesn't stop Jaskier from snapping a couple more pics.

"It's been years since I saw the sea," he says, a little wistfully, when they get closer. "Sometime before uni with my parents, I guess."

"Did you guys go on a lot of trips?" Geralt asks.

"I don't know. Some, I guess. But my parents preferred shipping us off somewhere so they could go on trips without us kids," Jaskier muses. "I'm not sure why two people who clearly thought children were a burden ever decided to have any." 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaskier sees Geralt grimace. "Yeah," he agrees, sounding a bit bitter. 

Jaskier sighs and shifts to rest a hand on Geralt's thigh. "Fuck both of our parents, right?" he says. 

"Hmm." 

"Sorry. I'm bringing the mood down again."

Geralt glances at him briefly, smiling. "It's fine. Things don't need to be _happy_ all the time, Jask," he says. "And I got lucky with foster care. I can't complain." 

"Neither should I," Jaskier says with a shrug. "I grew up wanting for nothing." 

"Except attention and love," Geralt reminds him softly. "That's not nothing. Money alone doesn't make for a happy childhood."

Jaskier hums non-committedly. "I guess," he says and scratches the thumb of his free hand over his jeans. "Maybe I wanted too much. Everyone always says I want too much. I'm _needy_."

"You were a child."

Jaskier huffs. "Okay, yes. But even after," he says and then groans. "Why are we even talking about that? We're on vacation. Let's talk about something nice. I just want to have a good time."

"I don't think you're needy," Geralt says, ignoring Jaskier's words. 

Jaskier huffs. "Geralt. I _know_ I am."

"Okay, maybe a little. But not the bad kind of needy," Geralt says. "I like it."

"Because you're a provider," Jaskier says. "You take care of people. You like being needed." 

"So?" Geralt asks with a frown. "We're evenly matched then. Nothing wrong with that."

"Might grow sick of me one day," Jaskier mumbles. 

"You really think that?" Geralt asks, and he sounds a little sad.

Jaskier looks down at his lap. He hates that he lets Geralt see this side of him, this insecure, scared side. And he knows Geralt isn't like his family or any of the people he's dated in the past. He might seem a little stand-offish at first, but underneath all that Geralt is kind and loyal and protective and he treats Jaskier like he's something special, something to be cherished. 

Jaskier shakes his head. "No, I don't," he admits. "I just get insecure sometimes."

"And you think I don't?"

Jaskier frowns. "No, I know you do. But that's ridiculous," he says. "You're… you're so _good_. You're the best person I know."

"Hardly," Geralt says, but he's smiling now. 

"Oh, if you think that you're no better than I am," Jaskier complains.

"So. We're both idiots," Geralt concludes.

"I suppose we are," Jaskier says. "I'll try to be better, darling. I promise. But you have to promise, too."

He holds his pinky up.

Geralt glances at it and snorts.

"No, I'm serious," Jaskier says. "Promise, dear."

Geralt huffs but he lets go of the wheel with one hand and hooks his pinky around Jaskier's. "I promise," he says. "Happy?"

"Yes," Jaskier says and hums. "Because you make me happy. Every day. You ridiculous man."

*

Jaskier loves the sea. He hadn't thought much about it, hadn't thought he'd missed it, but getting out of the car and looking at the vast amount of water in front of him, breathing in the salty scent, he feels utterly taken with it.

It's windier here than back at the campsite and the wind ruffles Jaskier's hair and sneaks under his clothes, making him zip his jacket up more tightly, but Jaskier still sticks his nose into the air and smiles. The sound of waves rolling against the shore and the cries of seagulls mingle and Jaskier closes his eyes for a second, committing the sounds to memory.

"What are you doing?" Geralt asks.

"Ah, just taking it in," Jaskier says. "I'm going to write a dozen songs about this."

"A dozen?"

"Hmm, yes. The sight, the sounds, the smell," Jaskier says. "Being here with you."

Geralt snorts and Jaskier shushes him.

"Let me be sappy for a minute, you brute," he says. "I'm having a moment." 

"How about you have a moment once we're actually down at the beach and not standing in the middle of a parking lot?" Geralt suggests teasingly, and Jaskier makes an offended noise.

"You can't choose when these things happen to you. That's not how inspiration works," he says. 

Geralt grins and holds his hand out to him. "Don't I know. Remember that time you stopped in the middle of a blowjob to write down some lyrics?" 

Jaskier's cheeks flush warmly and he narrows his eyes at Geralt, even as he takes his hand. "I was drunk. And I only stopped for, like, ten seconds," he says. 

"Hmm." 

"And I made it up to you," Jaskier argues.

"How?" 

"It was one of the best blowjobs of your life," Jaskier says. "Because all of mine are."

Geralt hums, amused. "I can't actually argue with that," he admits and tugs at Jaskier's hand. "Come on. Let's get moving."

*

Jaskier wants to pat himself on the back for choosing to go on a trip to the coast. The fact that it's a windy and partially cloudy day and that they've picked a place that isn't anywhere near a bigger town means the beach isn't too crowded and they can stroll along the sand in peace. Jaskier barely feels the blister under his foot—Geralt still checked three times if he was sure before they headed out after breakfast and made sure the plaster was still sticking firmly to his skin—and they're both smiling and relaxed.

Jaskier picks up a few seashells and stones that catch his eye and makes Geralt put them in the pocket of his jacket for him, which Geralt does without hesitation each time Jaskier holds his newest find out to him, even if he grumbles about it.

"My jeans are too tight. And this jacket is pretty, not practical," Jaskier tells him. 

"Maybe we should buy you more practical clothes then," Geralt counters as he slips another seashell into his jacket.

Jaskier frowns at him. "Darling. Dearest. There are many, many things I will do for you, but I won't let you pick out my clothes," he says. 

"I'm not _that_ bad," Geralt grumbles and looks down at himself.

"Oh no, you look lovely. Dark and brooding works for you," Jaskier says. "But put me in outfits like that and I just look depressing. I need colors and fun and things that show off my ass even if it means there's no room for stuff in my pockets."

Geralt narrows his eyes at him playfully. "Who do you need to show off your ass for?"

"This ridiculously handsome man I met earlier this year, who I need to keep interested in me for a long, long time," Jaskier says.

He bends down to pick up another seashell and wiggles his butt a little as he does so.

Geralt snorts. "I don't think you have to worry about his interest waning."

"So he keeps saying," Jaskier says. "But he deserves a good view nonetheless."

"Appreciated," Geralt says and holds his hand out before Jaskier has even finished studying the seashell. 

"I'm gonna use these as decoration at your place, I think," Jaskier muses. "Your downstairs bathroom is awfully drab."

"Not your place?"

"Oh psh, that shithole is a lost cause," Jaskier says. "I've done my best. But it's a shoebox. And not even a nice shoebox. I mean, come on, the walls are so thin I might as well be sharing my bedroom with my neighbors." 

Geralt snorts.

"I've been putting some money aside for a car," Jaskier continues, only a little nervous. He runs his hand through his hair, slightly damp with salty sea water from the fine mist the wind has been blowing inland. "So I can drive out to your house and we can spend more time there. I know you hate coming to the city."

"Jask. You don't have to," Geralt says.

"I want to," Jaskier insists and smiles. "And I'm starting to think I like the city less than I always thought as well."

"Really?" Geralt asks and he doesn't sound like he believes Jaskier. "You like crowds. You love performing at pubs and going shopping and seeing all your friends."

"And I can still do all of that," Jaskier says. "But I like being with you and not hearing my neighbors screaming at each other. Or having to listen to that awful pop music the teenagers next door like. Or knowing they can hear _us._ I like your place. It's peaceful." 

"I like having you there. I'm not saying I don't," Geralt promises. "And I can help out with the car if you want." 

"Absolutely not," Jaskier says, shaking his head vehemently. "It's very sweet of you to offer, but I can take care of myself. I just need to spend less money on clothing and going out—it's probably about time I learned to do that anyway."

Geralt grunts and nods. "Alright," he says.

"You're fine with me spending more time at your house, right?"

Geralt nods again and then smiles at Jaskier, all small and soft. "I'll make room for your things in my closet."

"Oh, well, you don't _have_ to," Jaskier lies, and Geralt snorts knowingly.

They continue to stroll down the beach. There's a small town not too far away from where they parked and they switch to the boardwalk when they get there, eventually picking up some food to eat. There are a few small shops to browse, but the town is clearly not geared toward tourists and there's not much to see, so eventually they sit down on the narrow quay wall and eat the ice cream Jaskier insisted on getting. 

Jaskier ends up eating the last of Geralt's as well and then spends a little longer than necessary licking his fingers clean under the heavy weight of Geralt's stare. 

"I'm just being thorough," he says blithely.

"You're being a tease, you brat," Geralt replies and Jaskier laughs.

They walk back the way they came, shoulders bumping. They're almost back at the parking lot when Jaskier stops Geralt with a hand on his arm.

"I need to at least dip my feet in the water."

"It's probably cold," Geralt warns.

"Oh pfff, I can take a bit of cold," Jaskier says, waving Geralt off. "I'm not going to take a trip to the sea for the first time in years and not at least get my toes a little wet. That's just not done, Geralt." 

Geralt gives him an exasperated look, but he takes Jaskier's shoes and socks when he takes them off. 

"Your foot still okay?" Geralt asks, a bit of concern coloring his voice.

Jaskier bends down and rolls up his jeans as much as the tight fit allows. "It's _still_ fine, darling," he says. "Can barely feel the blister."

Geralt grunts in reply.

"You sure you don't want to join me?" Jaskier asks, digging his bare toes into the sand that is, admittedly, not exactly warm.

"No. You go, have fun, freeze your toes off," Geralt says and Jaskier scoffs and turns around.

The water is cold. Awfully cold, really. But Jaskier isn't about to let that deter him—or admit that Geralt had a point—so he bites back a yelp and takes another step until the waves come up to his ankles. "Not cold at all," he calls out over his shoulder. "Warm, really. Unbearably hot, almost, one might say."

"Might one?" Geralt replies mockingly.

"Oh yes," Jaskier says. "In fact, it's a bit too warm for me."

He lets one more wave crash around his feet and then turns. Geralt is watching him fondly, and Jaskier hurries back over to his side, taking his socks and shoes from him.

"Back to the car?"

"Don't you want to put your shoes back on?" Geralt asks, and Jaskier wiggles his toes in the sand and grimaces.

"I got sand sticking to them," he says. "I wanna clean them first."

It's not a very far walk, thankfully, because Jaskier's toes definitely feel a little cold and he walks close to Geralt's side, trying to steal some of his warmth. 

Geralt halts him when they reach the parking lot, putting his arm in front of Jaskier, sand spilling on the pavement where the little path they're on ends.

"What?" Jaskier asks, looking around for anything Geralt might have spotted that made him pause.

"You can't walk barefoot across the parking lot," he says. "There might be broken glass and other things you can step in on the ground."

"Your car is right over there," Jaskier says, pointing. "I'll watch where I'm going."

Geralt makes a displeased noise. "Jask."

"What? Are you gonna carry me?"

Geralt gives him a speculating look and then nods. "That works," he agrees and picks Jaskier up before Jaskier can protest and tell him he was kidding. He yelps in surprise as he's hoisted over Geralt's shoulder, Geralt's arms wrapped securely around his hips and knees.

"Geralt," Jaskier cries. "You can't just pick a man up and carry him around like a sack of potatoes. What will people think?"

"Only ones around to see this are a few seagulls," Geralt replies. He puts Jaskier down—very carefully, Jaskier happily notes—when they reach the car. "Don't move."

He unlocks the car and opens the door for Jaskier. 

"How can you be such a brute and such a gentleman at the same time?" Jaskier muses.

"Sit and clean your feet, you idiot," Geralt says. 

Jaskier sits down sideways in the passenger seat. He tries to wipe the sand off his feet with his hands at first, but it's wet and clumped together, sticking to his skin. He peers over the back of the seat at the various things in the back of the car that they didn't leave behind at the campsite.

"Do we have a towel or something that can get a bit sandy?" he asks. 

Geralt hums and opens the rear door and rummages around and comes back with a dishtowel, which he tosses at Jaskier.

"We're not going to use this to dry the dishes later, are we?" Jaskier asks, wrinkling his nose.

"I brought more than one," Geralt asks. "And _we_? I've done the dishes so far while you stand around and talk."

"I've helped," Jaskier argues feebly, but it's not entirely true. Geralt's done more than his fair share of work when it comes to, well, most things, including cooking and cleaning up. Jaskier has helped a little, but probably not nearly as much as he should have.

"Hmm, sure," Geralt replies, sarcasm clear, and hands Jaskier a bottle of water. Jaskier uses it to rinse his feet clean before he pats them dry. 

"I can do more," he says, feeling a little guilty. "I'll do more."

"You're fine," Geralt says.

Jaskier huffs. "No, I should do more," he mumbles.

Geralt stops in front of him and bends down, cupping Jaskier's face in his hands and turning it up. He places a kiss onto Jaskier's lips. "You're fine," he repeats. 

"You know you're spoiling me terribly, right?" Jaskier says with a small, blissed smile.

"Hmm." Geralt ducks back in, presses a slow kiss to Jaskier's lips, then another.

"Geralt," Jaskier mumbles. "Public."

Not that _he_ minds, but Geralt is a lot more reluctant about public displays of affection. A quick peck after one of Jaskier's gigs is the most he goes for and Jaskier knows even that is something he allows just for Jaskier's sake, and that makes him cherish those little kisses even more.

"There's nobody here," Geralt says. 

"There might be someone lurking around," Jaskier teases.

Geralt hums and just kisses Jaskier again, slow and long, his tongue brushing against Jaskier's lips before he draws back.

Jaskier almost whimpers when he does, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around Geralt's neck and keep kissing him. He can taste the salty sea breeze on Geralt's lips, taste the minty traces of the chewing gum Geralt popped into his mouth after lunch, and he wants to wrap himself up in this—in Geralt's taste, his scent, his arms. 

"Let's go home," he murmurs, suddenly wanting nothing more than to crawl into their tent and press himself close to Geralt.

"Home?" Geralt replies, looking puzzled and a little concerned.

Jaskier laughs. "The campsite, you idiot," he says. "I want you alone and all to myself."

"You have me all to yourself," Geralt says, brushing his fingers through Jaskier's no doubt windswept hair and carding it back. 

"Yes. But I'm pretty sure there are laws prohibiting me from stripping you naked and crawling into your lap right here, so our tent it is," Jaskier replies with a smirk and winks. "Hmm. Unless you want to park somewhere less out in the open and do it in the car. I'd be agreeable to that as well."

Geralt rolls his eyes and pulls away from Jaskier. "No," he says firmly. 

"Fine," Jaskier says with a pout. "You spoilsport." 

Geralt huffs out a laugh and closes the back door before rounding the car. Jaskier quickly puts on his socks and shoes as Geralt gets in the car and then turns in his seat, pulling his door shut. 

"Ready," he says, lifting his hips to fish his phone out of his back pocket to put on another playlist. 

"Seatbelt," Geralt grunts.

"Yes, yes," Jaskier says dismissively. "Don't you worry, I'll put it on and stay safe. Your concern is very sweet, my dear."

"Hmm. Only saying it because you mentioned the prospect of sex. After that, eh, I don't care."

"Rude," Jaskier exclaims, while putting on his seatbelt. "You'd be devastated if something happened to me. And who would you have sex with then, huh? You need me to stick around."

"Any of my other boyfriends would do," Geralt mocks and starts the car.

"Oh? How many others do you have?" Jaskier asks, narrowing his eyes.

Geralt shrugs. "A few. Five or six."

"But I'm your favorite, right?" Jaskeir says petulantly. "Say I'm your favorite."

"You're alright."

Jaskier tips his head back against the headrest and turns to look at Geralt, taking in his profile, the slight upward curl of his lips. He feels a rush of fondness and love for him in that moment that makes his heart ache a little, and he thinks this might be one of the most perfect moments in his life, sitting in a car with Geralt, bantering and teasing each other, the scent of the sea still clinging to them and Geralt's pockets filled with trinkets Jaskier picked up on the beach. He hasn't had this a lot in his life, feeling perfectly at ease with someone else, knowing he's loved and can be himself, can say whatever comes to his mind. 

Geralt shoots him a glance and furrows his brow. "What?"

"Nothing," Jaskier says, putting his hand on Geralt's thigh with a smile. "Just happy."

"Sap," Geralt mutters and briefly rests his hand on top of Jaskier's, squeezing it. 

*

Jaskier stretches, feeling lazy and sated, his eyes half-lidded. It's starting to cool down inside the tent, but it's still just warm enough for Jaskier to feel comfortable being naked with only the woolen blanket pulled up over him and Geralt, silently basking in the slowly fading afterglow.

Geralt is lying on his side, trailing his fingers over Jaskier's belly, his touch seeming almost absent-minded, his face thoughtful but relaxed. Jaskier can tell there's something on his mind, but he doesn't seem upset or concerned, so he lets Geralt mull it over, waiting for him to speak up. 

It's another ten minutes of comfortable silence and Geralt's light, slow touches, only interrupted twice by Jaskier humming a tune under his breath for a short moment. There's an idea for a song on the edge of his mind, just out of reach, snatches of a melody with no words yet. 

Finally, Geralt shifts and leans in, brushing his lips over the curve of Jaskier's shoulder. "You know," he starts and then falls silent again.

"What, dear?" Jaskier asks.

Geralt hums, his fingers stilling before fanning out, until his hand rests warmly on Jaskier's stomach. 

He's quiet for another long moment. "If you don't like your place. And if you like not being in the city all the time," he says, "you could move in with me."

Jaskier's heart does a funny little thing in his chest at the words which catch him completely off-guard. He likes to think he's pretty perceptive. Telling Geralt he loves him has been on the tip of his tongue for a while now and he had a feeling those words would be uttered by both of them on this trip, the timing feeling right, but Geralt's suggestion comes as a surprise. 

He turns onto his side, tempering the urge to throw himself at Geralt and say yes just yet. "Do you want me to move in with you?" he asks softly, watching Geralt's face closely.

"Jask," Geralt says. "I love you."

He sounds almost helpless, like he doesn't know what to say, doesn't know what the right answer is that Jaskier expects him to give. 

"I love you, too," Jaskier replies and cups Geralt's cheek, feeling the stubble against his palm. "And I'll love you just the same whether we live together or not, darling. There's no rush. If we need more time, that's more than fine. I know we'll get there eventually."

"I want us to live together," Geralt replies without hesitation, and Jaskier feels his breath catch in his throat.

"Yeah?"

"Do you?"

Jaskier smiles, and it feels wobbly, his eyes feeling suspiciously watery suddenly. "Yes," he says. "Of course I do." 

Geralt hums, lips turning up in a smile. He leans in and kisses Jaskier, and Jaskier kisses him back and laughs softly into his mouth. 

"Oh, I hope you know what you're getting into," he says, pressing one, two, three more kisses to Geralt's lips. "I have a lot of clothes. A lot of instruments. I'm loud. And messy. And emotional." 

"I know." 

"And you still want me to move in with you?" Jaskier asks again, needing to make sure once more.

Geralt slips his hand around him to rest on the small of his back, rubbing it languidly. "Yes," he says with a smile. 

"Okay. Good," Jaskier says and he can't help himself, leaning in to press more kisses to Geralt's lips, to the corner of his mouth. "I love you."

Geralt hums and turns his head, bringing their lips together in another kiss, his hand pressing against Jaskier's back, pulling him closer.

*

Jaskier looks out at the lake that's glistening in the distance and smiles. When Geralt had suggested another hike this morning, Jaskier had surprised himself by how excited he'd been at the prospect. It's not a warm day, autumn is definitely setting in, but it's sunny and the sky is clear. He pulls his phone out and takes a few shots before turning to Geralt. 

"Come here, I want a photo of us with that view," he says. 

Geralt doesn't look ecstatic, but he steps closer dutifully. He slides his arm around Jaskier's waist and Jaskier shuffles them around a little, until he's able to hold his phone up and take a picture of both of them with the lake down in the valley in the background. He makes a surprised sound when Geralt suddenly turns his head and presses a kiss to his cheek and then screws his eyes closed and laughs when Geralt keeps peppering the side of his face with kisses.

"Geralt," he complains, and it's not even a little heartfelt. 

Geralt hums, sounding pleased. "Let's take a break here," he suggests, nodding at the log at the side of the path. Jaskier nods and makes a noise of agreement, swiping through the photos he just took as Geralt moves away. They're good photos, the view behind them stunning, but it's the last few that make his chest ache—there are laugh lines around his closed eyes and his nose is wrinkled as he laughs, Geralt's lips turned up in a smile as he kisses his cheek.

"Going to post one of those?" Geralt asks.

Jaskier licks his lips and pockets his phone. "No," he says. He has no intention to share a photo that feels so deeply personal, something he'd rather keep just for himself. 

He joins Geralt on the log, straddling it the same way Geralt does, facing him with their feet overlapping. Jaskier looks down at their feet and smiles, wiggling his toes in the spare pair of hiking boots Geralt lent him. They might not look very fashionable, but Jaskier has to admit that they're a lot better suited for hiking than his own shoes and he kind of likes how outdoorsy they make him look.

"Which one?" Geralt asks, holding out two packed sandwiches that he got from the campsite's store that morning before they set out. Jaskier looks at them, nose wrinkling when he sees one of them has eggs in it, and picks the other. 

He opens the packaging and bites into his sandwich, eyes widening when he sees Geralt pull out two apples, bottled water and a packet of Hobnobs. 

He tries to reach for it, but Geralt playfully slaps his hand away.

"That's dessert."

"But," Jaskier tries. 

"Sandwiches and apples first," Geralt says, trying to sound stern. 

"You're mean," Jaskier complains, but he takes another bite of his sandwich, giving Geralt a pointed look. Their feet brush together and Jaskier knocks his knees against Geralt's. 

"We should do this more often," Jaskier notes once he's finished his sandwich, grabbing one of the apples Geralt has placed between them.

"Having lunch?"

Jaskier scoffs. "Hiking," he says. 

"Really?" Geralt asks, sounding mildly surprised.

"Don't sound so shocked," Jaskier says with a huff. Truth is, hiking is more exhausting than he expected. He's in pretty good shape, but he prefers yoga and working on his core strength, and the hilly area Geralt picked for their hike is definitely leaving him a little breathless. But the views are amazing and the crisp, fresh autumn air feels good, and while he enjoyed their hike the first day, he has to admit the shoes definitely make a difference. He might even buy a pair of decent hiking boots and maybe even a windbreaker that's more practical than pretty, if they're going to do this more often.

"I'm glad," Geralt admits, and Jaskier beams.

"You know what we need?" he asks. "A dog."

"Jask," Geralt mumbles. "It's a lot of responsibility."

"What? I mostly work from home when I'm not playing gigs. We could get a dog," Jaskier points out.

Geralt rubs a hand over his cheek, looking almost nervous. "It's a _commitment_ ," he says.

Jaskier pauses, looking at him. Geralt looks unsure, almost insecure. It hurts to think Geralt doesn't trust that Jaskier is completely committed to them, but Jaskier knows all about Geralt's past and upbringing, knows that no matter how much he loves his foster father and brothers, being abandoned by his parents at a very early age has left its mark. He's chipped at the walls Geralt has up around him over the past few months, wormed his way into Geralt's life, but he understands Geralt's caution. Jaskier's own upbringing hasn't left him without scars and doubts, either, after all. 

"Geralt. You asked me to move in with you," he replies gently. "I wouldn't have said yes if I wasn't in this for the long haul. I am. For as long as you'll have me."

"Hmm. A dog, huh?" Geralt says after a brief pause and smiles sheepishly. "I always wanted a horse." 

"Okay. A horse. That's a bit bigger and a tad more complicated than a dog, but if that's what you want," Jaskiser says.

Geralt chuckles. "A dog would be great," he says. "But maybe a horse, one day. We have enough space."

Jaskier smiles and nods. "We do," he says softly, and it's funny how Geralt's house already feels like home, feels like _theirs_ , even though he hasn't moved in yet. "Bloody hell, I'm going from being a city kid to living in a house in the countryside with animals and enjoying hiking."

"Too much?"

"Oh no. Fuck no, darling," Jaskier says and grins at Geralt. "It sounds lovely." 

*

Jaskier wakes up the next morning with his face pressed into Geralt's chest, half of his face hidden under their sleeping bag. It's warm and cozy and he keeps his eyes shut, hoping to stay like this for a little longer and get some more sleep.

"I can tell you're awake," Geralt says, his voice a deep, sleepy rumble.

Jaskier whines his complaint and just shuffles closer to Geralt, trying to wrap him up in his arms and legs in an attempt to get him to stay in bed longer.

"We have to get up and pack up soon," Geralt reminds him.

"I don't want to," Jaskier mutters. "Can't we just stay here?"

Geralt chuckles. "Really? You're not eager to get back home?"

Jaskier tips his head back to peek up at Geralt and lets out a long, unhappy sound. "No, I want to stay here," he says. 

Geralt strokes a thumb over his cheek, squeezes it playfully. "Can't."

Looking at Geralt, with his skin pale but cheeks rosy from sleep, his hair dishevelled, makes it hard to give in, but Jaskier finally grumbles his consent. Peeling himself out from under their bedding sours his mood even more, because it's considerably colder that morning than it was previous ones and a peek outside the tent confirms that the sky is overcast, rain on the horizon. Jaskier nicks one of Geralt's hoodies, feeling a little better once he's wrapped up in the soft fabric, Geralt's scent lingering on it.

They have a quick breakfast and they barely manage to dismantle the tent and pack everything away before the first rain starts falling. Jaskier thinks it's a fitting atmosphere for his downcast mood, sad that their short trip is coming to an end already. He hadn't expected to love camping this much, had thought it was something he would do for Geralt's sake, but now he wishes they had a few more days. 

By the time they leave the campsite and hit the road, the rain has picked up and is coming down hard. Geralt drives slowly, carefully, the windshield wipers swiping back and forth fast.

Jaskier turns on the radio and then pulls the sleeves of Geralt's hoodie past his fingers and wraps his arms around himself, snuggling up in the passenger seat as best as he can. His eyes fall down to his feet, his canvas shoes smudged with dirt and mud. He knows the rest of him doesn't look much more put-together, still sleepy and rumpled, his hair slightly unwashed. And yet.

"We should come back in spring."

"Hmm. Yeah?" Geralt asks.

"Yeah," Jaskier confirms. "Or go somewhere else. Just pack the car and hit the road, explore the country."

"Sounds good," Geralt confirms.

"You'll have to tell Lambert and Eskel they've been replaced. I'm your new camping partner," Jaskier teases.

"They'll live," Geralt dismisses with a small smile. "You know we can take other trips as well. We don't have to go camping because I like it."

"I like it too. I excelled at camping," Jaskier argues. "One might say I took to it like a fish to water."

"That so?" Geralt asks sarcastically.

"Yes," Jaskier says and waves his fabric-covered hands around. "Look at me, I look like a real camper, all muddy and grubby and rugged." 

Geralt's lips turn up into a smile.

"What? Don't I?"

"You look like a pretty city boy wrapped up in his boyfriend's clothes."

"I'm covered in dirt," Jaskier says. "I haven't showered since the day before yesterday!"

"The horror," Geralt mocks.

"Oh, whatever," Jaskier says. "You think I'm a pretty city boy and you love me and you're moving me into your house."

"Hmm."

"And for the record, I do want to go camping with you again."

"Yeah?" 

"Yes," Jaskier confirms and then bites his lower lip. "Though maybe we can take another trip over Christmas break that I get to plan."

"That's fair," Geralt admits.

"I'm thinking a secluded cottage," Jaskier continues. "Hmm. You and me in a cozy log cabin with a big fireplace."

"That's what you want?" Geralt asks and he sounds pleased.

Jaskier shifts to get more comfortable. "Yes, that's exactly what I want. You and me, somewhere secluded. Clothing optional."

Geralt snorts. "Alright," he agrees.

Jaskier hums happily and sinks further down into the seat. The fabric of Geralt's hoodie brushes his nose as he turns his head a little, and he breathes in the lingering scent of Geralt's cologne that clings to the clothing. He tries to picture them in some cozy, romantic cottage somewhere, but his thoughts keep straying to their next camping trip. Maybe they'll have a dog by then, he thinks. They'll be living together for sure by then, and Jaskier smiles at the thought of Geralt's house cluttered with his things. His clothes will be scattered all over the bedroom—much to Geralt's chagrin, no doubt—and Geralt will have made a place for Jaskier's piano, which currently takes up most of Jaskier's living-room, and the seashells he found will liven up the downstairs bathroom. He'll buy a few more indoor plants, maybe an art print or two to bring in some color, and he thinks about printing out one of the photos of the two of them he took on their hike the previous day and putting it on the fridge. 

More photos will join it, eventually. Photos from other trips and random snapshots of their lives, pictures of their dog and the horse Geralt will one day get. 

"You're zoning out," Geralt remarks.

Jaskier glances at him and smiles. "Just thinking," he says. "About the future."

"Yeah? Good thoughts?" 

Jaskier hums and looks out the window, at the rain coming down and the dark clouds covering the sky. 

"Yeah. It looks pretty bright to me," he says.

**Author's Note:**

> Other places you can find me: [twitter](https://twitter.com/whispered_story) | [tumblr](https://whispered-story.tumblr.com/)


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